Guernica
by amourdesoi
Summary: She didn't know when or why it started - but somewhere along the line, she had begun to feel something towards Theon Greyjoy. Something other than annoyance, or pity ... and with the upcoming war, that line is about to become very blurred. Theon/OC.
1. one

A/N: Okay, so here it is. The first chapter is kinda short - I wanted you to be able to get somewhat of a grip on Alma and her relationships, and a bit of how Theon views her. If you guys like it, I'll continue. Also, title is subject to change. :)

I don't own GOT or ASOIAF.

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><p><strong>GUERNICA<strong>

_chapter one_

_Steady, now. Be still and focus, just like Uncle Rodrik showed you, and … release._

Once she released the arrow, it made a dull thunking sound as it completely missed the bullseye. It wavered in its position, lodged into the wooden fence behind the targets, as if taunting her.

"A blind man would have better aim than you!"

Embarrassed, Alma Snow felt heat rise to her cheeks. Turning around, her hands tightened their grip on the bow as she tried to glare at her spectator – but it must not have been threatening, because Theon Greyjoy only laughed harder at the expression on her face.

"Stop laughing!" She pouted, resisting the urge to stomp her feet in frustration. She hadn't even known anyone had been watching, since she'd been busy concentrating; there hadn't even been anyone in the yard only a minute ago, but Theon always did have a way of sneaking up on her.

"How can I not laugh? Bran has more skill in his little finger than you've got in your entire body." He smirked, that all familiar grin that made him look like the cat who got the cream. "Keep in mind that Bran is quite young and is terrible at it, too."

Huffing, she ignored his snickers and went to retrieve the arrow. _Stupid Theon, _she thought. _Thinks he's so high and mighty because he can hit the bloody bullseye! _She trudged back and held the bow up again, notching her arrow. Too busy mentally cursing him and trying to focus at the same time, she didn't know he was behind her until she felt his hands cover hers on the bow, steadying them.

Alma's face got even hotter as Theon positioned himself snug against her. "You need to keep still," He said, whispering into her ear.

"I'm t-trying," She replied, feeling even more embarrassed at her stuttering and his close proximity.

"I'd hate to see what would happen if you weren't," He chuckled, so close that she could _feel _him grinning against her ear. His grip on her hands grew tighter as he drew back the arrow a bit more. "One, two … let go."

The arrow whistled through the air before it landed directly in the middle of the bullseye, and so pleased that it managed to finally hit the target, Alma forgot who it was that had helped her and cheered. Only when she realized he hadn't moved away was when she remembered it was _Theon_ who had helped her, and she tried to compose herself, sniffing as she turned her head to look at him.

"You can move away now." She said, hazel eyes looking at him suspiciously. Theon had a reputation of being a womanizer, and this wouldn't be the first time he'd tried to charm her. Not even the glares of her father, the Captain of the Guard, seemed to make him stay away.

"I rather like being this close, wouldn't you agree?" Theon lilted, but she shrugged him off and moved to a safe distance away. He crossed his arms. "I don't even get any thanks for helping you? Are all bastards this ungrateful?"

As much as she hated when her circumstance of birth was brought up, it wasn't as if she could deny it. "... Thank you," She mumbled out grudgingly, looking away. "See? I'm not ungrateful at all."

Theon took a step closer, further diminishing their distance. "If you're nice enough, perhaps I could teach you." Another step was taken, and Alma had to lean back to avoid being nose to nose with him. "There's many a thing I could teach you-"

"Leave the poor girl alone, Theon," Came a chuckling voice. Alma stepped away from Theon, blushing again at his implications before she turned to see who it was. It was Robb Stark, accompanied by his half brother, the bastard Jon Snow.

"I was just having some fun, is all," Theon replied nonchalantly.

"I'm sure you were," Robb said, clearly unconvinced, though he was still smiling.

Alma had never known any other home than Winterfell. Her mother had been a whore from the brothel in Winter Town nearby, outside of Winterfell's walls – but she had died giving birth to her. When her father came to see her for the first time, she'd been less than a week old and did not yet even have a name. At that point in the tale, Jory would muss her hair and tell her he knew he wouldn't be able to part with her as soon as he had held her.

Thankfully, Lord Stark was a kind man, though stern at times, and he had let Jory take his daughter to live in Winterfell. She had grown up with the Stark children; Robb and Jon were both like brothers to her. Though she and Robb were the same age, he always took the role of older brother towards her.

And as for Jon Snow, the same went for him. He treated her like a sister, and as two bastards in Winterfell, they were close. Alma had never approved of the way Lady Stark treated Jon, though Catelyn was never rude to her. She supposed it had something to do with the fact she wasn't Ned Stark's bastard like he was. When he'd been younger, he'd often come to her to vent, and she would comfort him as best she could.

Sansa was sweet as well, though she was quite prim and proper; many a time had Sansa wrinkled her nose at Alma's attempts to learn how to fight and her appearance, since she usually favored male clothing and her hair seemed to be perpetually messy. It was for those reasons, though, that Arya looked up to her. The youngest girl didn't care about whether she was a bastard or not, and was always excited and willing to tell her stories about what pranks she'd pulled on whatever poor soul that day.

Alma loved Bran and Rickon, too, though Bran always disobeyed his lady mother's orders to stop climbing – and though Rickon was still young, he would often manage to get Alma to play with him. Rodrik Cassel, both her uncle and master at arms of Winterfell, had a soft spot for her as well – though it was a very small soft spot, since Rodrik was not a soft man. He didn't even like music, which Alma thought to be ludicrous.

But with Theon Greyjoy, there was never any sort of familial pretense. He was always teasing her, making fun of her birth, or flirting with her. The latter didn't come until she had started filling out as a girl should, though. She could still remember the Ironborn ward making fun of her flat chest when she was younger, and she'd run to Robb and cry to him about it. At that point, Robb would scold Theon, and that usually incensed him.

Theon was older, after all, and though he was treated with respect and schooled along with the Starks, he had never truly been one of them. Alma had the same respect and lessons, though there was no need for her to be a Stark; she at least had her father. Theon had no one – and even though he sometimes made her want to rip out his hair in her frustration, she would remember that and be as kind as she could manage.

At times like these, she tried to exactly that, and so she sighed and reluctantly said, "It's alright. He … he did help me, after all."

She hated thinking about that; it saddened her, though she would never dare show any pity towards him – though sometimes she couldn't help it. It wasn't that she didn't feel sympathy for him, but Theon was not without his pride despite being a glorified hostage. Alma had been raised to be polite and respectful, though he usually never acted that way back towards her.

Theon opened his mouth, most likely for some smart remark, but there was a yell that interrupted him. "Alma!"

Arya came barrelling into the yard, tugging on her sleeve excitedly. "Alma, come see!" Pulling her down a bit, she whispered into her ear, "I'm going to teach those stable boys a lesson once and for all!"' Arya released her toeing the dirt. "Though... I think I'll need your help, so..."

"What mischief are you planning now?" Jon laughed, and Arya frowned and crossed her arms, playfully glaring at him. The three Starks began to banter, but Alma found herself looking at Theon.

He was watching them with some sort of forlorn look in his eyes, without a smile for once. Alma didn't realize how long she'd been staring until Theon began staring at her, now, and his face had an indescribable look to it before it twisted into a sneer.

"... Alma!" Arya's exclamation snapped her out of it. "Quickly, before they get back from their chores!"

"R-right," Alma swallowed. "Let's go then, shall we?"

Theon watched Jory Cassel's bastard leave with the youngest Stark girl, a bitter taste in his mouth. Jon and Robb had already grabbed their training swords and were starting to spar – but no invitation had been extended to the ward. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to it, though, so he muttered out unnintelligible farewells and began to stride to his destination.

The annoying way she had been looking at him while she excused him – yes, _she _had _excused _him, which he thought to be ridiculous – had boiled his blood. The damn girl was always giving him some sort of sympathetic look, though he figured she thought she was doing a grand job of hiding it. _And she's always been more part of the Starks than you ever have been, _his mind whispered scornfully.

Still, he wouldn't mind bedding her, ignorant bastard or not. She certainly was not the fairest girl he'd ever seen, but she had thick, wavy dark brown hair that hung down to her waist that he would just love to pull on. Theon sometimes liked to imagine how those big hazel eyes of hers might look with fear in them – fear at _him, _once he showed her she was beneath him ...

Unfortunately, his many attempts were usually interrupted by someone, whether it was Maester Luwin or one of the older Stark boys. Theon had a feeling if it wasn't for their interruptions, he might've been able to break through and get what he wanted – but there would be time for that. He would be here at Winterfell until he was _released_, anyways.

So until then, he thought as he started riding towards the town outside Winterfell, he'd just pay Ros a visit and try to forget all about the Starks and that insufferable, piteous look in her eyes.

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><p>AN: Hopefully you guys liked that! So if you did, please be a sweetiepie and review and tell me what you thought. :D If people want me to continue this, then I'd be glad to, so let me know! Thanks for reading.


	2. two

A/N: Wah, thanks for all these reviews! :)

**Megan**: I'm glad you think Theon's IC, and that you think Alma's believable. I worry about that most when I write!

**PhoenixRage92**: Thank you! I'll definitely continue it since people seem to like it, along with BHLN.

**thePatient07**: Your review makes me feel so proud I've managed to do that, hopefully I don't let you down!

**Garota** **Anonima**: Thanks! And don't worry, I think I have a thing for the bad boys as well (especially the misunderstood ones)!

**Shata**: I cannot see Theon being romantic at all! I mean, maybe to some extent, but the most sentimental we see him getting over a woman is when Ros leaves... and he asks her to flash her goods at him. Yeah ... gotta love him.

**Trulzxoxo**: I have NO idea how I'd even go about making a YouTube video for this, haha. But if anyone wanted to try, I would feel honored and certainly would not object!

**ber1719**: Thank you, and I'll try! And of course I have to fit the Starks in, though I can promise you this won't turn into a muddled love triangle or anything. Alma's relationship with the Stark boys is purely like siblings. :)

**1stDeathAnniversary**: I have read the books, almost done ADWD. Poor, poor Theon, I feel so bad for the guy. And here's me continuing, so don't worry!

Okay, SO. This chapter is pretty freakin' short, I'm sad to say. Again, I just wanted to put in their interactions before we get down to the nitty gritty, since this chapter is during the first episode.

I hope you guys enjoy anyways!

I don't own GOT or ASOIAF.

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><p><strong>GUERNICA<strong>

_chapter two_

"Just one cup," Theon urged, thrusting the wine in her face.

"I've already _had_ one," Alma waved him off, her speech slightly slurred.

The feast held at Winterfell in honor of the King was magnificent; there was so much laughter and cheer that the castle walls wouldn't even need the hot springs flowing within them to make it warm. The food was plentiful, along with the drink – which, against her better judgement and Theon's persuasion, she'd had a good amount of. It was a good thing her father was wasn't sitting at the table with the Stark children as she was; no doubt she'd get an earful about it.

"More like four," The ward smirked, still persistant. "What harm will one more do?"

_I don't know why I even listened to him_, Alma thought, swaying slightly on her seat as she tried to glare at Theon. Of course, his making fun of her and suggesting she was too weak to handle a bit of wine did naught to help. Alma was about to open her mouth for a retort that her wine addled mind hadn't even thought of yet when there was a horrified gasp from Sansa.

"Arya!" She screeched, a glob of food stuck on her cheek. Jeyne hastily grabbed a hankerchief and began to wipe it away. "It's not funny!"

The whole tabled exploded in laughter. Alma tried to give Arya a stern look, feeling sorry for Sansa when the girl was so obviously trying to act like a proper lady in front of the prince, but gave in to the giggles threatening to burst out of her mouth. Lady Catelyn shot Robb a look, and he got up to go over to Arya's side of the table to shoo her off to bed. With the laughter starting to fade and now being left with Theon sitting across from her, the cup of wine was again shoved in her face.

"Theon, you-"

"Oh," Theon withdrew his hand, "Forgive me, I had thought you were ten and six, not six." He lifted the cup to his own mouth, but Alma swiped it from his hand with a frown. He smirked again, and she stomped on his foot underneath the table before taking a gulp.

"I hate you, Greyjoy," Alma wrinkled her nose at him before taking another swig. The more she drank, the more she thought about the possibility she might have to leave to King's Landing.

If Lord Stark did choose to become King's Hand, her father had told her, he would be leaving to go with him. The more she thought about it, she realized she didn't want to go. But then she'd be separated from her father, and the thought alone hurt her. But if she went to King's Landing, she'd have to leave behind Winterfell. Not only would she be leaving the only place she'd ever known of as home, but she'd be leaving the others.

"I don't want to leave," Alma said morosely, frowning at the swirls of grain in the top of the table. "I don't want to go to King's Landing if Lord Stark decides to become the Hand."

"You'd miss me too much, eh?" Theon asked, a devilish smile on his face.

"I would," Alma hiccuped out. "You may be annoying and _completely _insufferable, but I would."

That took Theon by surprise. He hadn't thought something like that would come out of her mouth, and had been joking when he'd asked.

"... just like I'd miss Robb and Jon, and Bran and Rickon. I'd even miss Hodor!" She yelled, the wine remaining in her cup sloshing over the edge.

He didn't know why, but that comment had stung a bit. _Why should I care if Jory Cassel's bastard lumps me along with everyone else_? It wasn't as if he _wanted_ her to miss him, because he was Theon Greyjoy and Theon Greyjoy didn't care what the bastard girl would miss or not - but for a split second, the thought that he would be missed by someone, anyone, had almost felt nice.

"Another cup," Alma was now pushing the cup at him, hand waving around impatiently – but he was already pushing the bench back to stand.

He lost whatever hunger and thirst he may have had left; half because his previous thoughts had bothered him, and half because the fact he was actually troubled about it disconcerted him. _Have these years of land really softened me so much? _He thought angrily. He could hear Alma calling his name through the din of the hall, but he ignored it and left.

The night air felt cool against his skin once he stepped outside, a refreshing change from all the heat in the hall. All that wine had left a bitter taste in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it back and ran a hand through his hair. He'd been shaved and had his hair combed neatly to the side – even Alma had grudgingly told him he looked nice – but now it was undoubtedly unruly.

"Theon?"

With an irritated sigh, he turned around. It was Alma, hair almost as messy as his own, a newly filled cup in her hand.

"I thought I was completely insufferable?" Theon remarked.

"You are," Alma stated, as plainly as if she was telling him the sky was blue. She took another gulp of wine – or tried to, at least, because some ended up spilling on the front of her dress – before he strode up to her and grabbed the cup out of her hand.

"So why have you come to pester me, then?"

Instead of answering, she tried to make another grab for the cup, but he poured it out on the ground. Seeing her pout made him feel a little better, at least. "Did something I say bother you?"

"Of course not." He said nonchalantly. "Why should you care if it did?"

"I simply … I ..." She looked away, eyebrows furrowed. "You're such a stupid."

"Now you sound like Arya," Theon couldn't help but chuckle, but she was still looking at him with that stubborn look in her eye, the one that said she wasn't going to let go of this so easily.

"You're sure I haven't said something-"

"Don't be foolish. What makes you think something _you _said would bother me?"

"W-well," She stuttered, "I know we do not get on well, but we've known each other so long that I had thought we were almost..."

"Friends? Was that what you were about to say?" Theon snorted, taking another step towards her. "I'll be the Lord of the Iron Islands one day. You're just some silly bastard girl. You aren't anything." He was so close to her that he could smell the wine on her breath and see tears begin to shine wetly in her eyes from his words. He took joy from that, too – until there was a stinging sensation on his cheek.

"Why are you so terrible?" Alma demanded, the open palm she'd slapped him with closing into a tight fist.

He rubbed his face, a small grin emerging. He enjoyed that even more – he liked feisty women, and bastard or not, she was no exception. Perhaps that was why he always tried to get a rise out of her; he always did have some perverse sort of fascination with riling her up.

"I try to be nice to you, I really do! But you … you make it so difficult, you git-!"

Alma was stopped mid-sentence by the pressure of his mouth on hers. She stumbled back out of surprise, but his hand crept to her back and pulled her to him, ignoring her fists beating on his chest. His lips were strong and insistent, but warm, and in her drunken, wine-induced state, Alma reluctantly started to actually _like _it – when he pulled away.

His smirk was wider than ever as she gaped at him owlishly, trying to regain her senses. "What did you do that for?" She cried indignantly.

"To stop that pointless drivel coming out of your mouth." He arched an eyebrow. "You don't think I'd want to kiss you for any other reason, do you?"

"Have I told you I hate you?" She spat, promptly turning on her heel and trying to walk away with dignity – which she didn't have much of, because she almost stumbled a few times and could hear his snickers from behind her.

Alma wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. _Stupid, stupid Greyjoy, _she cursed, _My first kiss, taken by him of all people! _She could still remember the way his lips had curved against hers, smiling even then. _How dare he?_

But no matter how drunk she was, or how much she wished she could slap him again a thousand times over, she still laid awake that night, fingers on her lips.

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><p>AN: Okay, before anyone kills me for having them kiss in only the second chapter, let me just say: Theon, to me, has always seemed like the love 'em and leave 'em type. So Theon is not madly in love, or even crushing, or anything like that - he's just ... Theon. Wow, that sounds like a really bad way to excuse myself, haha.

And as for Alma, she doesn't like him that way either, but things are probably going to change after that, whether she likes it or not. She's a sixteen year old girl, and well, if you've ever been a sixteen year old girl, you probably know all about that.

So I hope you liked it, and I promise the next chapter will be longer.

Please, please review and tell me what you thought? :)

Thanks for reading.


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